Friday, April 30, 2010

Becky Mochaface asked us to do our very first guest post while she is off in some exotic tropical adventure. So, while she is sitting by beach with an drink with an umbrella in it, we shall discuss why we think we might be getting old. (Sads.)

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Yesterday afternoon as I rolled around in the green fields of cold hard cash, aka my new job, I realized mini angel me that resides on my right shoulder was humming a lovely little diddy in my ear. I recognized the tune but couldn't quite place it. I wasn't sure if it was because my hearing has been permanently altered by mini devil me from my left shoulder constantly yelling the mantra "your soul belongs to this cube," or if it had just been a decade or more since the song was last played. Anywhere.
An hour or so later, my subconscious had written lyrics to the song and it went something like this:

*I, I got a new job*

*You would hardly recognize me I'm so glad*

*How could a person like me work for you*

My mind had reverted back to the last time I was truly, deeply, happy. I lie. I am actually a generally happy person, and for some reason, my mind's musical stylings today were from 1993.
**side note** Clearly something horrible happened to me in 1993 which I have blacked out and potentially need shock therapy to resolve. Ooh! Or couples therapy... I could bring the husband and torture him with weird misplaced memories of my youth. That would be amazing!**
I digress.
How amazeballs were Ace of Base? They were so much more than a three-hit-wonder. They were the 90's version of ABBA, who I so knew nothing about until I saw Mamma Mia in Vegas in college. Who knew the theme song of my career would be played by a Swedish Pop Group? At least I know my Mom wasn't a reformed bed-hopper who couldn't identify which Dude she puked on and got horizontal with that eventually fathered me. That was the premise of that story, right? I couldn't see the movie because to me Amanda Seyfried will forever be a tween actress on AMC and I am sure that I would keep waiting for Adam Chandler to be revealed as the paternal donor sperm donor for Meryl Streep. Gross.
What the heck happened to them? AofB, not the Chandlers. Remember their CD Da Cappo in the early 2000's? Ya, me neither. I swear. I stopped listening to AofB around the time they came out with Living in Danger.
However, based on yesterday's musical inspirings, I have decided that all big decisions/milestones in my life will forever be commemorated in songs from my childhood. Last night I gave my husband a DVD of our wedding pictures and set the background music to Hootie and the Blowfish's Only Wanna be With You. He wasn't impressed, but likely because I scared him into thinking this date meant something.
I fully expect to throw out All That She Wants at our next anniversary. Should be classic.
I am off to make a radio dedication to tape the last song on this new mix tape.
C

Monday, April 26, 2010

Sorry for the no-post Friday. We couldn't be dragged away from the requisite beer drinking, fried food eating euphoria known as Fiesta.
And...it was also my last day at my old job, so I spent the day celebrating with my two new besties, Marg and Rita. We had some serious quality time. It continued into the morning.
Also, for the record, Marg & Rita have a serious out-of-no-where sucker punch that causes migraine like pain many hours later. Don't say I didnt warn you.
Back to Fiesta.
Last week I worked the Armadilla Egg booth at NIOSA, pronounced {n-eye-o-sa}, if you say {knee-o-sa} we can no longer be friends. NIOSA, to tourists and ticket holders is the crowd equivalent of hell, outpopulated only by the ticket booth at a Bieber concert pre-sale. Don't believe me?

And this is only a small portion of the 4 square blocks of booths and madness. Seriously, its a claustrophobic nightmare. And the best thing ever.

'Dilla Eggs come from the vag of armadillos. See picture below:

If it is true that happy cows make good cheese, happy armadillos make some damn good eggs. And what sombrero wearing 'dillo is anything but lovin life?

Just kidding about the eggs being pushed from the vagine of senior felicitades here. 'Dilla eggs are fried jalapeno poppers, and are quite possibly the lifeblood of most South Texans.

Note, it was really the Armadilla egg booth. We Texans like to uncomplicate our words and spell phonetically. Arm A Dill A.

Fiesta in general has the world's best food, and NIOSA didn't disappoint. Basically, anything you have ever wanted is battered, deep fried, and coated with powdered sugar.

Or salsa

You gain like 5 pounds the moment you buy your ticket. And you smell like beer for at least 3 days. Like I said the.best.thing.EVER.

But, in case you are somehow not completely entranced in an alcohol induced coma, and you dare to think NIOSA is a poor man's version of Mardi Gras, you would be wrong. Stupid wrong. We got class, baby. Like blinged-out class:

About Me

We spend the majority of the 'workday' reading various (read: numerous) blogs in between emailing each other about mini-traumas and other life experiences. Very little 'work' gets done. But by the end of the day, both of our worlds are a little bit brighter. That may be the alcohol though.